Tea is Never a Problem, but it can be a Solution
by The Ferryman
Summary: Or how Hermione calmed her parents, deduced the location of the Horcruxes, plotted to have the Goblins turn over the contents of Bellatrix's vault, unraveled the curse on the DADA Professor position, planned to remove a soul fragment from Harry, and explained to Dumbledore how Voldemort had erred, all over a simple cup of tea. (Follows on Pureblood Traditions)


Disclaimer: The first one was a one-shot so this sequel is as well. Unfortunately I own neither Hermione, Dumbledore, nor a calming drought.

"I want to know why we weren't told about any of this."

Hermione sipped at her tea so she didn't have to look at her mother seething in anger. The problem was…she was right.

And Dumbledore continued to edge around the facts.

"There was no good reason to," she said, bringing the conversation rather quickly to a halt.

"Hermione—"

"What would you have done if I'd told you?"

Her mother frowned slightly at being cut off.

"What kind of question is that?" her father asked. "We'd have pulled you out of that-that _school!_ "

"You would have tried," Hermione said. "If I hadn't agreed you'd have been memory charmed never to remember me and I'd have become a ward of the state. If I _did_ agree, then we _all_ would have been memory charmed to not remember anything about magic."

"A precaution deemed necessary by some to protect the Statutes of Secrecy," Dumbledore said softly.

"The potential side-effects of forced adjustment of long-term memories are both nasty and progressive," Hermione noted. "Blackouts, loss of fine motor control, dissociative neurological conditions… On the upside, the charms usually wear off in their entirety after five or six years with no deleterious effects, but by that time everyone knows you are crazy so…" she shrugged slightly. "That's for you, of course, mum, dad. You don't have magic, whereas I do. One of the subtler part of memory charms is that they use the charmed person's own magic to reinforce them so I really wouldn't remember my going to Hogwarts…even after you and Dad start to again."

"No side-effects?" her mother asked.

"Aside from the part where magic really is an art," Hermione said. "Assuming that replacing significant portions of several years' worth of memories doesn't…impair me, then if I had learned to paint or some such I suspect I would have eventually become quite celebrated as an artist."

"And this is bad how?"

"Very few in that position are famous within their own lifetime, and many go quite mad," Hermione said. "You may recall my friend from first year, Sally-Ann Perks?"

Dumbledore winced and her mother paled sharply.

"You mean that was…" her father's voice trailed away.

"Yes."

"A regrettable incident."

" _Regrettable?_ " her mother turned on Dumbledore.

Dumbledore held out his hands, "what would you have me say, Dr. Granger? Neither the headmaster of a school, nor a senior member of parliament, would have a hand in carrying out the law in the muggle world, why should it be different in the magical? I provided the Perks with the best information available to me, including a warning of the potential dangers, and they chose the path they saw best for themselves.

"I did suggest Sally Ann learn to play an instrument. Music doesn't seem to drive quite as many mad as painting."

"We could have sent her to a different school," her father said.

"No," Hermione said softly. "You couldn't. The Magical World likes its secrets. Transferring schools would be either seen as me stealing Hogwarts' secrets, or coming to steal…another school's secrets."

"You're joking," her mother said.

"In five years that I was there, Hogwarts never had another student transfer in. Not one. Nor has student transfer out. I suppose you could have arranged private tutors, assuming any would consent to teach a muggleborn and the Ministry were willing to grant a muggleborn an exemption regarding the use of magic among muggles."

"I would not have a problem if Ms. Granger requested recommendations," Dumbledore said mildly. "Whether or not any other school would accept them is more than I can say."

"Is that so?" her mother asked.

"Yes," Dumbledore said firmly. "And now, Ms. Granger, if you wouldn't mind telling me just what happened when you arrived home and found your parents missing?"

"I came home to find my parents gone and Lucius Malfoy waiting for me. He wanted me to spy on Harry this next year."

"And you told him?"

"That I'd need proof my parents were alive. That he'd allow us all to leave at the end of the year and proof that they wouldn't try to track, molest, or harm us further. That I needed someone other than Draco as a point of contact. And that I'd need a rather large sum of money."

"Did he offer any of these things?"

"He was put out when I noted the picture he provided could have been staged with polyjuice, or a parchment charmed to show what I wanted to see."

"Polyjuice requires a living donor."

"Er…polyjuice?"

"A potion, it makes the imbiber take on the appearance of another," Hermione said told her mother. "The Longbottoms are alive, Headmaster. So too was Crouch Jr the last I heard."

"Who are these people?"

"Parents of a friend, and one terrorist who was masquerading as a Defense Professor," Hermione said. "The former were tortured into insanity, the later had his soul eaten by a dementor."

"Oh," her mother nodded. Her father frowned slightly.

That was good. It meant the calming drought in the tea was finally working.

"A telling point. And then?"

"And then he invited me to tea. With Lord Voldemort."

"I see," Dumbledore said slowly.

"Rather. We discussed Draco's…shortcomings as a potential agent. And my fee. Lucius was instructed to provide convincing proof."

"How did you know Voldemort would not simply kill you?" Dumbledore asked.

"I didn't," Hermione said. "But my parents installed security cameras several years ago. They captured my parents' abduction. The damage to the house and yard. And Lucius repairing it with several flicks of his wand. I gave the proof to…someone. Then had myself memory charmed to not remember who. If I didn't return from meeting Voldemort and prove to be myself and free of any and all compulsory or duressory magic, the videos would be broadly distributed world-wide to television and print media, as well as uploaded to the internet."

"I…see…" Dumbledore said _very_ slowly. "And now?"

"And now?" Hermione laughed weakly. "I've just admitted to conspiracy to break the International Statute of Secrecy to the Supreme Mugwump. Let's not forget that trial Harry had last year."

Dumbledore gave her a considering look. "You didn't make preparations to disarm your trap?"

"Not exactly," Hermione hedged. "Well, that is…I didn't go out of my way to make sure it couldn't be disarmed, but I also needed to make sure that Voldemort couldn't take it away from me."

Dumbledore hummed a little. "And then?"

"Then I asked Voldemort what he expected from me," Hermione said.

Dumbledore frowned. "Was that not obvious?"

"It was, but at the same time I wanted to make sure that he understood that just because we thought something was so, it didn't mean it was. And that if I was suddenly left unable to communicate that nothing…unfortunate would happen to my parents."

"You are thinking of your first year?"

"That was part of it. But I also spent a great deal of time in my second year in the hospital wing."

Dumbledore nodded.

"And, of course, I hoped to divert Voldemort somewhat."

"By drawing attention to that you knew of the Chamber of Secrets?"

"Yes," Hermione said. "If he was worried about the Chamber's integrity, it could mean that there was something down there important to his plans."

"Clever."

"I thought so anyway," Hermione said.

"And in finding out about the Chamber he asked about a certain book. A diary."

"Yes. He was…most put out that Lucius no longer had it. He was supposed to have _protected_ it, Headmaster."

"Yes, I rather suspect that was the case. And then?"

"And then Voldemort tried to use the killing curse."

"On Lucius Malfoy?"

"Yes."

"And?" Dumbledore pressed.

"And the curse…backfired. It paused in mid-air and then reversed itself and struck Voldemort."

"Ah."

"Killing curse?" her mom asked.

"Probably kills," her dad replied.

"Makes sense. Was it not supposed to do that, Hermione?"

"Generally not to the one who casts it, no," Hermione told her mother. She turned to Dumbledore, "I think I may have overdone the calming drought."

"Just a little, perhaps. But I dare say they will wake up feeling well-rested," Dumbledore said. "Do you know why the curse behaved so?"

"I suspect, anyway."

"Then please…"

"Hospitality," Hermione said. "It, well, doesn't mean much for muggles in Britain anymore. I mean, sure, 'come over for tea' and whatnot. Go to some areas of the middle-east and you will still find elaborate displays of hospitality. But it wasn't so long ago really when it still meant something here. When a Lord's hospitality meant physical protection from your enemies, or seeking sanctuary in a church provided protection from secular law."

"Muggle customs," Dumbledore said.

"Yes, but… There is a story told by muggles, of two cities that were destroyed by God. Most people today equate it with, um, matters of sexual impropriety," Hermione said delicately. "But there are a number of scholars who say it has more to do with violating hospitality customs."

"An interesting story, but what does that have to do with Voldemort?" Dumbledore asked.

"Well…that's just it, really. Hogwarts doesn't have a course on magical culture. Or traditions. Or even how Euro-centric wand-based magic differs from that of, well, any other culture really. So before my first year I made a list of stories in the muggle world that seemed to deal with magic and spent a good amount of time in the library trying to tie the two together, and you know what I found?

"I found a lot of references, injunctions, against breach of hospitality. But I could not find one account of what happened when hospitality was breached. Many accounts of _differing_ hospitality customs, and what happened when someone inadvertently breached another's unwittingly. But I could not find one account of what happened when someone deliberately broke hospitality—and not a minor way—until that afternoon."

"Ah?" Dumbledore asked, leaning forward.

"As near as I can figure anyway," Hermione said. "I mean, Voldemort's lord-ship was self-bestowed, and then he terrified everyone into going along with it. I don't _think_ he made the Death Eaters vassals. If nothing else I should think it would've conflicted with the oaths of those working in the Ministry."

"Indeed."

"So…as I said. As near as I can figure, Voldemort had eaten Lucius' bread and salt, and drunk his tea. If Lucius was prepared to accept ill-treatment at the hands of a guest that would be one thing. But Voldemort made an outright bid to kill his host and…magic reacted."

"Extraordinary," Dumbledore said. "Simply… Simply fantastic. Well done, Ms. Granger. Well done indeed. Alas, term is over or else I would give points."

"Thank you, Professor. May I ask a question?"

"Certainly," Dumbledore said.

"What _was_ that book?" Hermione asked. "It was more than just some clever charms and enchantments."

"It was…" Dumbledore hesitated. "It was a piece of evil magic, Ms. Granger. The name and nature of its creation is unnecessary for you to know."

"Okay. But what did it _do_? Why was Voldemort so angry at its destruction?"

Dumbledore hesitated, one hand reaching up to brush at a very bushy eyebrow. "I believe it was an anchor of sorts."

"An anchor for what? An anchor prevents you from drifting. It keeps people grounded-grounded in this world? Preventing him from dying? For real?" Hermione asked. "Then why didn't he die when Harry destroyed the Diary? Because he had more than one."

Dumbledore nodded. If he was alarmed or surprised by Hermione's rapid leaps in logic it wasn't apparent.

"How many? I mean, is there a limit on the number anyone could make?"

"Most would hesitate to make even one."

"Why?"

Dumbledore hummed for a long while.

"Has anyone besides Harry done more than I just did to help stop that…person?"

"And how much of Harry's success is owed to you, you mean?" Dumbledore asked.

"A magically stable number," Hermione said, shifting tactics. "Three, seven, thirteen."

Dumbledore sighed. "And, like a terrier with a rat, you are incapable of letting any puzzle go. Very well. Its creation involves splitting one's soul."

"Ick," Hermione said.

"Yes. Quite."

"The fewer the better, but more is needed for redundancy. Seven then. Six…artifacts and one for himself. A book. Bell, book, and candle? No, well, most probably not. Book, candle, athame, wand, staff, sword, pentacle, thurible… Too many. Where would you hide them?"

"You begin to see the dilemma?"

"He was an orphan. Came in with no knowledge of the magical world. Hogwarts. Gringotts."

Dumbledore blinked. "Surely not."

"Why not?" Hermione asked. "They are the safest places in the magical world. We are told so repeatedly. Belief, faith without cause for belief to be true, is the rawest kind of magic. It is what makes holy symbols the bane of vampires. Belief that Hogwarts is safe makes it so."

"Harry would disagree."

"How else was no one killed our second year? Our had their souls eaten our third? For that matter, Professor Lupin did not bite anyone, the dragons did not break free and incinerate the spectators, and nobody drowned or had hypotherma despite being immersed in the Blake Lake in the _middle of February_. Besides which, Grigotts has that rather intricate charm when your first walk in. I wonder how many witches and wizards have read it, not realizing that they are casting an incantation that improves Gringotts' defenses.

"I say again. Hogwarts. Gringotts."

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow. "He hates non-humans."

"He hates non-wizards," Hermione corrected. "But goblins generally hate wizards too. And witches as well, they are refreshingly nondiscriminatory in that hatred."

"Even so, unless it was retrieved by whoever placed it in their vault—or that person's heir—that artifact is beyond us unless we break in."

"Too bad we simply couldn't ask the goblins to get it for us."

"Why couldn't we?" her father asked.

Hermione and Dumbledore both slowly turned to the muggle dentist.

"You're talking about something someone has in their vault," Hermione replied. "How would you feel if someone asked your bank to look in your safe deposit box for something without a warrant?"

"Well…yes," Dumbledore said slowly. "There is that. But we're also talking about an artifact being _actively_ used by a Dark Lord and goblins are sworn to neutrality in inter-wizard conflicts. Wouldn't protecting an artifact being used to keep alive one side's leader be seen as taking a side?"

Dumbledore and Hermione traded slow looks.

"Gringotts," Dumbledore murmured.

"Hogwarts."

"But—"

"A new Defense professor every year for the last forty years?" Hermione asked.

"Not quite that long, and we've had a number who've sat multiple years."

"Not consecutively," Hermione said. "That's a high-end curse."

Dumbledore hesitated again before nodding. "Indeed. One I have been unable to break."

"Curses of that nature usually need to be tied to an object."

Dumbledore scratched at his eyebrow again. "Not just any object. A magically powerful object."

"I know where the two places I'd look first would be," Hermione said.

"The Library?"

"Well…the second and third," Hermione said, feeling her cheeks heat.

"The Chamber of Secrets. With Harry's help a full investigation would not be impossible," Dumbledore agreed.

"And the Room of Requirement," Hermione finished. "It's a room that can be anything you need it to be."

"Such as a place to study for your O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s?"

"Or a place to hide something that you don't want anyone to find," Hermione replied. "Since he only seemed to react to the Chamber in reference to the book, we should check the Room of Requirement first."

She reached down and lifted up the left leg of her jeans and unwrapped a bandage to reveal a long piece of silk wrapped around a skinny object. Hermione placed this on the coffee table, tugged her jeans back into place, and unwrapped the silk. "I'd use this. I mean, if this…artifact is part of him, then presumably his wand would react to that part. I don't know if it's purely proximity based, or if it's usable at a distance, but—"

"Using a wand to track its owner's location," Dumbledore said.

"I only started to look at sympathetic magic last year but it seemed a possibility and I didn't want Lucius to have it so…"

"Quick thinking, and the logic is sound."

"Logic is only ever as sound as the assumptions it is based on."

"Well, there is that too." Dumbledore looked at the wand then slowly covered it back up. "We are going to need Harry's help with this."

"I rather suspected we might."

"And…this is not easy…Voldemort's snake."

"Nagini?" Hermione asked. "You think one of these…artifacts can be a living thing? I suppose that would explain the snake, then. I thought he'd just heavily ensorcelled it. B—"

She stopped abruptly as horror dawned on her. Dumbledore clearly knew what she was thinking because he offered her a cup of calming drought-laced tea.

Hermione pushed it away as she stood. "No. No! I won't have it," she said, angrily pacing around the room. It was fairly spacious, but to her magic it felt tight, constrained.

"It isn't for you to—"

"Damnit, Dumbledore _it's not fair!_ " she snarled, magic crackling down her hair causing it to instantly triple in volume and go extra bushy.

Dumbledore stood, his own hands spread. "What would you have me do or say?"

"It's not fair!" she repeated, with barely less fury. "Okay. Okay," she repeated, "being angry and arguing isn't going to help. Work the problem. Work the problem."

Dumbledore watched worriedly as Hermione resume pacing.

"Don't worry," the Mrs. Doctor Granger said.

"She'll be alright," the Mr. Doctor Granger said.

Dumbledore gave to two muggles a worried look, but they were sitting back in their chairs, oblivious to everything except the tea.

"Okay." Hermione crashed to a stop, whirled. "What are the differences?"

"I beg pardon?" Dumbledore asked.

"Voldemort didn't go there intending to turn Harry into a-a—a whatever it is! He went there to kill him! Harry's survival was an accident. Thus, his becoming a…soul jar was. An. Accident. So…what are the differences?"

"Empirically? He hasn't tried to possess anyone," Dumbledore said dryly.

"Yes. Good. What else.

"He's been able to share Voldemort's thoughts on occasion. Voldemort has been able to possess him."

"Voldemort possessed Ginny."

"A fragment of Voldemort, yes. Not Voldemort himself."

"That we know of. Okay, accepted. Parslemouth—no, Ginny had that when Riddle was riding her around. But that's a good point. _Voldemort_ tried to possess Harry."

"I don't follow the emphasis," Dumbledore admitted.

"It was Voldemort himself. It was Voldemort, er, Voldemort-prime," Hermione said. "And it was just that two—no, three—times, when he dreamt inside the snake, his dreams during exams, and then the fight in the Ministry. But _Ginny_ was a meat-puppet of a schoolboy.

"So instead of a soul jar, it's more like he's a secondary node of Voldemort-prime."

"That seems…a fair summation. I don't see how it is relevant, however."

"So if we destroy the other anchors, maybe the node in Harry will shuffle off with them."

"We can't take the risk of it not working that way," Dumbledore said.

Hermione nodded. "Okay, so how do we make a piece of soul leave something?"

"Destroy its container."

"An option for the other objects, not Harry."

Dumbledore bowed slightly.

"Dementor?"

"No way to ensure it only removes Lord Voldemort, assuming it is capable of such finesse."

"And you know how Harry is around those so…ick. Um…I don't suppose you know any magic for ripping out parts of a soul?"

"No," Dumbledore said in distaste.

"What about Flamel? He was around for a while."

"Nicholas was an excellent alchemist, but he was also a muggle, Ms. Granger. Or very nearly so."

"Okay. What else makes the soul leave the body?"

"The killing curse."

Hermione looked at him in surprise.

"There are many curses that can kill," Dumbledore said. "That is merely its method of execution…you should pardon the noun."

Hermione nodded. "Rejected, same argument as the dementor."

"Agreed."

"What about…what about a temporary death?"

"Temporary death?"

"When do you die?" Hermione asked. "It isn't a binary state. If the heart stops beating there is time to get it started again before brain cells start dying. Or if you can keep blood oxygenated and flowing you don't even need to do that."

"I wouldn't know. But perhaps Madam Pomfrey might," Dumbledore said.

"Well…that's my best idea. There are some muggle practices that do it—for heart surgery and the like. I man, unless you can think of some magical artifact that lets you dictate where the boundaries of life and death are?"

"I…no," Dumbledore hesitated. "But…there is one person I might ask."

"Alright then. We'll start there."

"There is, however, a complication."

Hermione sighed. "Of _course_ there is." She waited a beat. "Out with it."

"There is a matter of prophecy," Dumbledore said. "Two of them, in fact."

"Do you want me to justify that with a response?" Hermione asked.

Dumbledore didn't reply immediately.

"Harry told me about what Professor Trelawney said the night Pettigrew escaped."

"Ah, then you agree—"

"I agree that it referred to events happening on that night," Hermione said. "It's an assumption that Pettigrew was the servant, that Voldemort was the Master, and that midnight was in the local time zone."

"Logical assumptions, however. And it was prophesied the Dark Lord would return greater and more terrible—"

"A greater idiot," Hermione said. "A more terrible person."

Dumbledore paused. "Could it be so simple?"

"Prophecy is never straightforward. Only in hindsight is it clear. And trying to force it brings nothing but pain and misery. In this muggle and magical stories are in rare agreement," Hermione said.

"Perhaps, the first is quite clear however…"

"And that is?"

Dumbledore hesitated.

"Have you told Harry yet?" Hermione asked.

Then she abruptly shook her head.

" _The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches... born to those who have thrice defied him..._ " Hermione pursed her lips. "I hate divination."

Dumbledore's lips twitched.

Hermione's hand rose and she scratched at one eyebrow in unconscious imitation of Dumbledore. "Okay. I'm Harry's best friend. In a way that makes me his hand. But just to be certain we get Professor Snape, or possibly Lucius, to push the button to temporarily kill Harry. That should satisfy the requirements."

"I thought you said bad things come to those who try to force prophecy?" Dumbledore murmured.

"It was an idea I threw out for your peace of mind, not my own. Certainly not for 'prophecy'," Hermione said. "Assuming that prophecy does ring true, and I'm not prepared to make that assumption, then this one might as well not apply to Harry."

"The wording is quite specific. 'Born as the seventh month dies…'"

"I heard. You don't need to repeat it," Hermione said irritably. "I'll admit that the description of this 'One' bears a cursory resemblance to Harry. But I heard nothing in the Prophecy to suggest that the 'Dark Lord' in question is Voldemort, or, for that matter, that the calendar in use is the current Julian calendar. Without those the rest of the prophecy falls apart."

"Voldemort believes it," Dumbledore said softly. "You have already mentioned the power belief holds in our world. In believing he makes it _real_ in the way as a mere collection of words it could never be."

"Great. He can be the one who forces it into biting him in the ass. What'll it be, Headmaster? Shall we try ridding the world of this menace, or should we wait for him to respawn first?"

"Respawn?" Dumbledore inquired. "Never mind, I think I perceive your meaning from context. By all means, let us…try."

"Excellent."

Hermione paused as a thought tickled at the back of her mind. Rather than try and force it, she turned and ran her gaze over the field stones making up the fireplace.

"Eight."

"Pardon?"

"If he made six soul jars before attempting to kill Harry he might not have realized he'd actually split his soul eight ways. Likewise, if he only made five prior—"

"Most likely," Dumbledore said. "Nagini is a new…twist."

"And whoever was teaching arithmancy before Professor Vector, or back when Riddle was in school—"

"Ray Plainfield."

"—was only teaching Euro-centric numismatic systems?"

"I believe so. Why?"

"Well… Seven is an inherently stable magical number…in the systems _we_ most commonly use. But in some numismatic systems, _eight_ can be very lucky…or a symbol of Karmaic rebalancing. And if Voldemort didn't realize he split his soul into Harry and had only created _five_ jars with the intention of creating a sixth when he defeated a 'Chosen One'..."

"Then he would have been in a hurry to complete a sixth when he was first able to do so," Dumbledore said, standing.

"Thus, the serpent."

"We should depart at once."

"What about…" Hermione gestured towards her parents.

"Well…they certainly took that very calmly," Dumbledore mused. "Never mind. We'll just tuck them into bed and they can sleep it off."

"Where do you plan to go?"

"Let us assume that your assumptions are correct," Dumbledore said, levitating her parents up the stairs ahead of him. "It should be easy enough to scour Hogwarts now that have an idea of where to look. If Voldemort entrusted two to his followers, and a third he hid himself, a fourth he keeps with him and the last two…well, that will take a little while to explain and really, it is much better that you see for yourself." He waved his wand and the quilt covered them. A moment later their clothes came squirreling out from under the covers even as their pajamas squirmed in.

"We shall need to go acquire Harry, of course. That should be fairly critical I think. And then we can be on our way."

"To where?" Hermione asked as she followed him down the stairs and out the front door.

"Why, adventure!" Dumbledore grinned madly as he offered his hand to her.

Hermione hesitated before slowly reaching out her hand.

"Excellent. Tell me, Ms. Granger," Dumbledore said as he spun in place. "Have you ever considered studying alchemy?"


End file.
